


Rebirthing

by vogue91



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 07:22:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13806282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “Do you hear yourself when you speak, Arthur? Each one of your sentence are full with hatred, envy, melancholy. That’s why you criticise my existence, America’s and everybody else’s... we don’t worry about what’s to come, just about the present, and what we can get from existence. It’s for this eternal pessimism of yours that everyone has grown farther from you."





	Rebirthing

****

England had left the room deeply irritated. He couldn’t stand how his brother always had to be such a diva. He thought back to those days, when he had found him wandering that meadow, and how he had dream he could become his, that he could raise him as a part of himself.

All of that had vanished when he had seen a man, taller than him, bigger, stronger. When America had realized he had far superior chances, that’s where troubles had begun.

England sighed. He went out to the garden, letting his mind wander.

He breathed deeply the smell of spring, wandering why there had to be necessarily four seasons, when spring was by far the best. It gave the world a layer of freedom unknown to other times of the year.

Behind him, all of a sudden, France made his appearance. He went next to him, without saying a words.

England panted. What he wanted was to be alone; for sure he didn’t need any company from France, who wasn’t really famous for his innate sensibility.

“What do you want?” he asked. Francis smiled.

“Why did you run away?”

“It wasn’t necessary for me to stay. America has taken the reins of the situation. And what can we do, but wait for his orders?” he replied, sarcastic. France put a hand on his shoulder, but Arthur moved away harshly. The other sighed theatrically.

“You’re too susceptible, do you know that?” he pointed out. England sneered.

“We can’t all have your _joie de vivre._ ”

“But you could try. I assure you, it helps living your life better.” he said, tender. England grimaced.

“I can’t live better, France. You’re like this just because you’re silly and shallow. You don’t see what it means being a nation, what burdens it entails. Look at us: we’ve been living for centuries following other people’s will, that we can do nothing but fight each other. This is the meaning of our existence. Fighting for supremacy over everybody else. Once you were the strongest, then I was, now it’s America and after the war... who knows, it could also be Germany or Russia. How can you tell me that we can be better than this? The only way you can go on with your carelessness is blaming everything on God or trying to secure weird alliances with methods... unorthodox, at best.” he added, becoming gloomy while remembering how the other nation had always pressured him for them to get married. “And we can’t go on like this. The life you dream is like embracing shadow and running after the wind, wanting to listen to dreams. It’s about time you face reality, Francis.”

The only answer he got for his speech, of which he was actually quite proud, was a laugh.

“Do you hear yourself when you speak, Arthur? Each one of your sentence are full with hatred, envy, melancholy. That’s why you criticise my existence, America’s and everybody else’s... we don’t worry about what’s to come, just about the present, and what we can get from existence. It’s for this eternal pessimism of yours that everyone has grown farther from you. Look at America. Okay, he’s an idiot, but in the end he made the only choice that seemed right to him: getting away from you. And it’s the road that sooner or later everybody’s going to choose.”

“Oh, really? And, let’s hear it, you who preach so good, what do you have more than me but defeats and a dissolute life?” he ironized. France smiled, his eyes closed. He turned his face to the sun, relishing of its warmth.

“I’m happy. And it is the best thing one could ever desire. And I am happy because I create chances... because, like you said, I go on trying to make new alliances. But in the end, isn’t it what we’re truly supposed to do? Trying to all get along, and if we don’t manage that no matter, at least we would’ve done something real.” he went back looking at him, a face more serious than usual. “Remember, Arthur: be alone, and you’ll be nobody. Ever.”

“I’ve tried not to be alone. I’ve made those alliances that you praise so much. And what have I gotten in return, but disappointment?” he replied, bitterly. And once again, France laughed.

“Only cowards throw in the towel after the firsts failures, my friend.” he declared.

Silence fell once again between the two of them. They both stared at the horizon, captured. France was merely contemplating the landscape, glad of what he saw. England, instead, pondered.

He was never going to admit it, but perhaps France wasn’t completely wrong. After the firsts attempts, he had stopped trying to look for other nations with whom to share his life, his battles, his own home, where emptiness echoed violently. It was true, he had given up, after centuries of power and pride. He had become the carbon copy of what he once was. He wondered if, with time, he would’ve been able to accept this new situation, and trying to surface back.

He turned to face France, finally smiling.

“Are we getting back inside?” he asked. France smiled back to him.

“What, did you finally decide to mess with America’s plans?” he asked, devilishly.

“Let’s say I’d like to let him see he’s not the superhero he believes he is.” he replied, sneering. France patted him on the shoulder, and together they went back inside.

“Well! My baby’s becoming a man. This is truly satisfying.” Francis mocked him. England looked offended, but he didn’t move away.

“Right, like it’s because of you.” he muttered.

“Isn’t it?”

“You’re not happy unless you think that every good thing happening it’s because of you.” Arthur pointed out.

“I’m beautiful and charming. I’m carefree. And I’m also powerful. I don’t see why it shouldn’t be like that.”

“Of course. Let’s fight wars with an overgrown ego. Sooner or later we should try that.” Arthur replied. They both smiled. Meanwhile, they had reached the door separating them from the others.

“So... who gets the honour to rain on America’s parade?” France asked, theatrical. England smiled, malicious, and went inside.

Perhaps for the first time in a long time, he could me the one to command.

And perhaps, getting out of the bubble he had put around himself, in the end he wouldn’t have been alone anymore.


End file.
